


Stunned Silence

by Ghost_Writing



Series: FairyTail Drabbles, and short stories [23]
Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Colored World Soulmates, Cut me some slack please, Fluff, Freed is trans, Gay, IDK You Yet - Alexander 23, It's been a while, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Pre-Canon, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmates, Strangers, Strangers to Lovers, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, it's one in the morning and I wrote this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:47:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28167978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghost_Writing/pseuds/Ghost_Writing
Summary: Freed sighed at the grey of his hair, he’d never seen the colour, a few people had told him that it was a brilliant green, but he didn’t even know what green was. The world had been in black and white since birth. Just like everyone, he had to wait to meet his soulmate to see the world in colour.So here he stood, a young man, barely even twenty-one, as he stared at his reflection. Wishing to see the colour. He didn’t even care about a soulmate, he just wanted to know colour.
Relationships: Laxus Dreyar/Freed Justine
Series: FairyTail Drabbles, and short stories [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1071471
Comments: 1
Kudos: 38





	Stunned Silence

Freed fiddled with his hair as he stared in the mirror. A tight binder wrapped around his chest just reminded him of all the apologies he had to make. They rang in his mind like poison as they filled his thoughts. He sighed at the grey of his hair, he’d never seen the colour, a few people had told him that it was a brilliant green, but he didn’t even know what green was. The world had been in black and white since birth. Just like everyone, he had to wait to meet his soulmate to see the world in colour. 

So here he stood, a young man, barely even twenty-one, as he stared at his reflection. Wishing to see the colour. He didn’t even care about a soulmate, he just wanted to know colour. He didn’t want to have to apologize and explain himself to his soulmate over and over. Why he looked like he did, a trans-man with long hair and an affinity for books. 

Just as he was about to abandon his plans for the day, the big ones he’s been planning for years. To join a guild, to become someone, he heard a voice as someone barged into the bathroom as well.

“Come on Freed! What are you doing still in your pants! Get a shirt on man! We gotta go! Ever’s waitin’,” Bickslow announced with his usual confidence, already dressed in his ridiculous knight outfit, helmet over the top of his dramatic styled hair.

Freed sighed, setting down the brush and looking at himself. He was skinny, almost underweight, pants that didn’t fit right over the pair of socks stuffed into his underwear, and long hair down his back that pointed up oddly. He didn’t deserve any of his destiny. He didn’t deserve to see colour, let alone meet his soulmate. 

Yet still, he turned to Bickslow, faking a smile:  
“Alright, I’ll get a shirt on. Just give me five minutes,” he nods, pulling his hair back into a ponytail.

Bickslow beams at him, leaving the bathroom and tossing words over his shoulder as Freed goes to his room.  
“Well hurry up then! We don’t got all day!”

With a sigh Freed enters his room, pulling on the button-up shirt and doing the buttons up. Tucking the ends into his pants as he looked over his room. A simple bed pushed against the wall- if it even counted as a bed, it was a mattress missing the frame- sitting next to a stack of books. His library card came in handy.

He kept his room tidy as much as he could. He walked over to the closet and took out a vest. He didn’t have a coat unfortunately, the only one he had was a massive winter one. So he smiled through the fall and the spring chill. 

After buttoning up the vest, he grabs his rapier from the side of the room and adjusts it on his belt. Giving himself a final check, he nods in approval. This’ll do for now. Presentable and passing.

So he goes to meet Bickslow and Evergreen in the living room of their apartment. His two friends were currently talking animatedly, adding a bit of warmth to the cold and decomposing apartment. With a leaky faucet, a dining table that was really just the box they found the couch in, and an old couch with odd stains and holes. They didn’t care. The stove worked, the power ran fine, and they got enough hot water to shower every third day. It was much better than living on the streets like their childhood. 

Freed almost manages to blend into the bleak, colourless room before catching Evergreen’s attention. She turns to him and he nearly winces, he never really liked being the center of attention. 

“Well someone’s finally ready. You know, taking forever is my job, right?” she chuckles, going over to pull him into a tight hug. He winces at the contact, not really caring for it, but tolerating it for her. She liked hugs. She’s his friend. This is fine. Sort of.

“Yeah… took a bit to brush my hair. Sorry,” he chuckles, looking down at his scuffed, worn shoes.

“Oh nonsense, I’m just giving you a hard time,” she giggles, patting his head as she lets go and making the small odd shapes of hair bounce. They never did want to go down with a ponytail. Odd little lightning bolts.

Bickslow claps his hands together to save him from any more awkward responses.  
“Well! Let’s get going then! Lead the way babies!” he announces as the tiny little totem poles he’d been working on for ages buzz to life and float out the door after him.

The two follow after him, quietly locking the door as they walk the streets of Magnolia towards the massive guildhall known as ‘Fairy Tail’. Freed quietly walked the grey streets, sighing at the monochrome details of the world as his confidence started to pick up the pace a bit. He was with his friends, he’d be fine. They’d get jobs and more money for the apartment. Maybe even an actual dining table!

Bickslow ruffled his hair when he noticed the smile on his face as they approached the guildhall. He motioned for Freed to open the doors. Freed shook his head vigorously.

“No, I can’t, really. This was your idea Bix, you do it,” he insists, motioning to the door.

“Nah, come on open the door. I insist,” Bickslow replies, nudging him forwards.

The two of them go back and forth for quite a bit, arguing over opening the door before Evergreen interjects.

“Look, why don’t we all open the door together?” she suggests, placing her hands on her hips with an arched eyebrow.

“Yeah that seems fair,” Freed agrees, internally sighing in relief from not having to do it alone.

Bickslow nods his head with giggling laughter as he grabbed Freed’s hand, pushing against the door with Evergreen on the other side. The door swung open to reveal the animated hall within.

People brawling, drinking, laughing and relaxing throughout the massive interior. Two spiky-haired men around the same age (no older than the three of them) brawled in the corner, clashing fire and ice magic. A white-haired young woman navigates drunken men reaching for her ass while holding plates of food and drink. A small man sits on the counter, drinking down a mug of frothy beer with a smile. A few people lift their heads to the ones at the door, but none call out.

Freed feels the nervous ball starting to form in his stomach as he tries to back up:  
“I can’t do this anymore…”

A hand catches him on his back, pulling him forwards as Bickslow and Evergreen begin to walk.

“You can and you will, we need the money,” Bickslow whispers as he walks towards the old man sitting at the bar.

Freed gulps. He’s not wrong but the thought terrifies him to his core. Doing work within here, around drunken men and women who can easily size him up and decide to try him on only to find out it's just socks stuffed into his pants. Not that he would say yes to any woman who asked.

His heart pounds in his chest as the three-stop in front of the old man at the bar.

“Hello there! I’m Makarov! What can I do for you three today?” he asks cheerfully, downing another large gulp from the mug.

“We’d like to join your guild,” Bickslow announces confidently, his hands on his hips with a broad smile.

The old man raises an eyebrow at him.

“I-If that’s allowed,” Freed adds, already wanting to hide behind the nearest book.

Makarov chuckles, setting his mug down as he hails over the white-haired barmaid from earlier.  
“So you wanna join, eh? Well, why should I let you?”

“We need to pay for rent. We’re hard-working and willing to do any of the dirtiest jobs to get the money to survive. We may not be the greatest at magic, yet, however, we work hard,” Evergreen pitches to him, trying to mimic the same confident aura that Bickslow had.

Makarov’s smile brightened further.  
“Well then, hardworking and willing to grow… sounds good to me, what do you think Mira’?” he asks the curvy barmaid with a grin.

She’s already holding a stamp pad and the handle of a stamp in her hands.  
“I think it’s an excellent idea. It’s been far too long since we’ve had new members of our guild,” she chirps happily.

Makarov nods his head, motioning for the trio to give her their limbs of choice. Freed has to groan when Bickslow seriously sticks out his tongue, but this ‘Mira’ doesn’t even bat an eye. He goes with a more sensible location, the back of his hand. 

As Evergreen gets her guild mark, after a brief explanation from Makarov over the guild’s rules, Freed takes a peek around. He was part of this, after all, might as well be able to familiarize a few faces. He stands next to Bickslow, carefully scanning. When Makarov starts to talk about signing he turns back around and does what is required to become a guild member. 

It doesn’t take too long, about thirty minutes after walking in and they have finished signing and getting their marks. They’d agreed to go look at the quest board together, having the location pointed out for them by Mirajane. 

Confidently, Freed turns around and puts a foot out to walk in that direction, only to be blindsided by a massive wall. He stumbles right into the other person’s walking path, the force pushing both of them to their feet. Papers fly high in the air as both crashes to the ground.

He rubs his head with a groan, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes as they start to hurt a little. Maybe he jostled his brain a little too hard?

Opening his eyes, he sees white paper with scrawled navy ink on the dirty brown wooden floor all around them, tight black pants lead up to a plum purple shirt tucked into their waistline with an open collar at the top. Large spiked headphones sit around the man’s neck, a massive fur-lined coat on the ground below him. Bright yellow hair spiked forwards as the other man rubs his head as well. 

Just like that, every nerve in Freed’s body freezes as his eyes go wide. His breathing starts to hyperventilate as he stares at the other man slowly opening his eyes with a groan. Deep and rumbling that does very little to help, and for once Freed is glad he doesn’t possess the correct genitals to not give himself away. 

The other man opens his stormy blue eyes, looking down at the paper around them.  
“Shit… now I gotta put these back in order,” he grumbles, going to pick up the paper from the ground. He gets a few sheets picked up before he freezes as well.  
“Gramps, what’s the floor look like?” he asks tentatively as he stares at the ground.

Makarov stops roaring with laughter with Bickslow for a moment to answer him, granted with small chuckles and snorts in between.  
“Brown wood gotta get a cleaner in some time. Told you this a million times, why are you asking now?”

The man nods his head, turning to Freed, who can only hear his heart hammer in his chest as it dawns on him.

“What colour is my shirt?” he asks, looking him directly in the eyes. Freed’s eyes flicker down, despite knowing already what it looked like. Despite already memorizing his appearance.

“I believe it’s called p-purple?” he mumbles, in complete disbelief. Behind him, there’s a sharp gasp and a few whispers as the other man thinks it over for a moment before continuing.

“And your hair’s green right?” he asks this time, straightening out his purple shirt as he tucked it back into his pants.

“Yes,” Freed squeaks as small tears perk in the corners of his eyes. This perfect man was doomed to have him as a soulmate, the antisocial bookworm who just wanted to run from this moment. He shivers briefly and violently, partly at the thought and partly at the chill of temperature. It didn’t help that he hadn’t eaten today and couldn’t warm up.

The other man sets down the papers he was holding, adjusting himself a bit to pull the massive fur-lined coat out from underneath himself. He leans forwards, full display to the whole hall that was now staring and whispering at them, and wraps the coat around his shoulders.

“I’m Laxus, what’s your name?” he asks while so close to him, close enough Freed swore that ‘Laxus’ could hear his heart hammering in his chest. Close enough that there were only inches between them. Close enough for Freed to realize this was Makarov’s grandson, Laxus Dreyar. The Makarov who was sitting only a few feet away.

“Freed, just Freed…” he quietly replies, managing to say the words without breaking down from fear and comfort. The coat was so warm and he could feel Laxus’s hand still resting on his shoulder. 

Though the feeling was nothing compared to when Laxus leant forwards and pressed their foreheads together gently. Never once breaking eye contact, a small smile on his lips.

“Just Freed… it’s got a nice ring to it. Simple, elegant, relaxing. I like it,” he whispers softly, brushing his hand against the side of Freed’s jaw. Freed tenses in fear that he’ll feel the softer jawline that’s only prominent from makeup and manipulation. 

“T-thank you, your name is very-”

“Sharp? Dangerous? Closed?” Laxus offers, as Freed lifts a gentle hand up to cup Laxus’s jaw as well. The moment felt so surreal. Was he allowed to touch as well? Or was Laxus the only one who could?

When Laxus didn’t pull away, instead of leaning into the touch, butterflies filled his stomach. They fluttered around and around, making him nervous… But this time, it felt good. It felt natural. He felt happy.

So he lent into Laxus’s hand, and continued;  
“No. Adventurous, bold, stunning.” He was never good at compliments, so he tried his best. The best he could do for this near-stranger he’d been told he’d meet his entire life.

“I think this’ll work well then,” Laxus mumbles, turning his head slightly as he leant forwards, pressing his lips to Freed’s before he could abort and pull away.

His face flushed as he sat there on the floor, surrounded by paper and probably stared at by the whole guild, his best friends, and the guild master. He froze for a moment, the holding press of Laxus’s lips to his, patiently waiting, the warm coat around his back, the quiet attentiveness, and the colour surrounding the two of them. He could back out now. He could be the coward and throw in the towel before anything happened and he was deemed a tease and a trap. But a small part of him believed, in hope that he could love and be loved. More than enough wanted to believe it. With all his heart.

He closed his eyes and leant into the kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Purposely left out Freed's last name! It's a bit implied with "Just Freed" but it's more of that Laxus comes up with the name later on.


End file.
